A Raunchy, Radical, Pudding, Cat Mystery
by Nebride
Summary: A bit of silliness set during the Classic X-Files days


A/N: I wrote this in response to a writing challenge. The challenge was to create a fic using the following six words: raunchy, pudding, cat, leather, radical, mother. Sheesh! Here is the silliness that ensued. It is based during the classic X-Files days. Enjoy :)  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
A RAUNCHY, RADICAL, PUDDING, CAT MYSTERY  
  
"Mulder, I can't believe you asked me to meet you in this raunchy place," Scully said, looking with disdain around the filthy little diner. Dust from the local cornfields coated the seat and table. "So what's this all about?"  
  
"Hey Scully. I bet you would never believe that Plodville Maryland is the source of a genuine haunting."  
  
Scully slid into the opposite seat and stared at her partner, "You're right, Mulder. I would never believe that."  
  
Mulder ignored the sarcasm in his partner's voice. "Listen to this Scully. For the last three weeks Mrs. Fuddie has reported to have objects disappear out of her upstairs bedroom, only to appear in the attic a day later. The first item. . ."  
  
"Mulder," Scully interrupted. "I can't believe you dragged me all the way out here on a Saturday to investigate what sounds like a prank. This is a job for the local police."  
  
"Hang on Scully. It gets better. . ."  
  
"It had better," she mumbled.  
  
". . . the first item to disappear was Mrs. Fuddie's mother's wedding ring. Her mother just passed away and Mrs. Fuddie had placed the ring on the night table in the bedroom. The next morning when she woke up, the ring was gone."  
  
"So someone who lives in the house might have taken it."  
  
"Mrs. Fuddie lives alone and her house was securely locked when she went to bed and was still locked when she got up."  
  
"Well, then she knocked the ring on the floor in her sleep and it rolled under the bed," Scully replied reasonably. "Or maybe she was mistaken where she put it."  
  
Mulder flashed her a triumphant smile. "Maybe, if it had happened only once. But it's happened several times. Mrs. Fuddie is convinced it's the spirit of her mother trying to contact her. So each night, she's placed one of her mother's possessions on the nightstand in the hopes that she will receive a clear message. And for three solid weeks, the item has disappeared only to reappear in the attic. The local police haven't found any evidence of foul play. So, I thought maybe we could go check it out."  
  
"Mulder. . ." Scully began. She intended to tell him to forget it. But he gave her that eager boyish smile that turned her insides to pudding and almost against her will, she found herself following him out of the diner and to the house of Mrs. Fuddie.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Now here's where each item is placed," Mrs. Fuddie eagerly explained pointing to the antique nightstand in front of the window. "Right here on the edge. The first night it happened, I had been cleaning my mother's wedding ring and I set it right there. When I woke up, it was gone. Naturally, I was very distressed."  
  
Scully tried to make an appropriately sympathetic face, though so far she wasn't impressed with Mrs. Fuddie's credibility. The older woman had the bright-eyed look of someone who spent too much time watching late night talk shows. Scully suspected Mrs. Fuddie believed in anything that anyone told her.  
  
"The next night," the exuberant housewife continued. "I had finished a book and laid the bookmark in the same spot as the ring. When I got up, it was gone as well."  
  
"Now, Mrs. Fuddie," Mulder began. "I believe you told me on the phone that all the items you placed on the night stand had belonged to your mother?"  
  
"That's right," Mrs. Fuddie nodded enthusiastically. "Do you want to see the attic now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Scully rolled her eyes. She could tell by Mulder's tone that he was completely taken with the whole ghost idea. "Wait a minute Mulder. I want to have a better look down here first." Sinking to her hands and knees, Scully looked under the bed.  
  
"Oh, I already looked there," Mrs. Fuddie assured her.  
  
Scully remained silent and poked around the room, moving the nightstand out just enough to see if something could have fallen underneath it. All she found was the broken off end of a black feather.  
  
"Does this feather mean anything to you, Mrs. Fuddie?"  
  
The older woman gasped, "Oh, it's an omen of evil." She quickly crossed herself. Scully rolled her eyes and looked toward Mulder. Even he looked a little skeptical at that.  
  
Scully put down the feather and opened the window. The sound of spring bird calls filled the air. "Do you sleep with your window open?" she asked.  
  
"Why, yes."  
  
"What are you getting at, Scully?" Mulder asked, coming to look out the window with her. "It's too high for someone to climb in."  
  
"Maybe for a person, yes. But it's possible that a cat could climb up that tree and jump over."  
  
"A cat?" Mulder laughed. "Come on, Scully. What would a cat want with Mrs. Fuddie's belongings?"  
  
"I just said it was poss."  
  
"Oh, I don't think a cat could get in," Mrs. Fuddie supplied helpfully. "You see there's this little lock here that secures it at about three inches. I don't think a cat could get in."  
  
Both agents dutifully examined the lock and did conclude that a cat could probably not fit through the aperture.  
  
Reluctantly, Scully agreed to follow them to the attic.  
  
In the corner, beside a crumbling chimney was a small shelf, covered with all sorts of small bits of debris. Upon closer inspection, Scully could see that it was mostly of small jewelry, some bright bits of paper and a gum wrapper.  
  
Mulder was already carefully examining one scrap of pink sticky note that had the ominous sounding words "Meet me at. . ." written on them. Another was from and old newspaper, the bright red ink of the Sunday funnies only a little faded.  
  
"You see, this is what made me think that it my mother's spirit," Mrs. Fuddie said excitedly.  
  
"Why is that?" Scully asked.  
  
"Well, you see my mother often wrote notes on these little sticky notes. . ."  
  
"So does probably half the population of the town."  
  
Mrs. Fuddie continued as if Scully had not spoken. "And Dennis the Menace was my mother's favorite comics."  
  
"What do you think your mother could mean by this?" Mulder asked, obviously fascinated.  
  
Scully scowled at him.  
  
Mulder and Mrs. Fuddie continued to discuss theories about what the bits of paper could mean. Scully went back down to the bedroom and more closely examined the windowsill. Just on the outside, she saw some small scratches. So, her cat theory did have some merit. There was no screen to keep a cat out. However, like Mulder had pointed out, she couldn't even hope to explain why a cat would be interested in Mrs. Fuddie's late mother's jewelry.  
  
Mulder came trotting down the stairs, obviously quite excited.  
  
"Hey Scully, Mrs. Fuddie had given us permission to stay the night and watch for the phenomenon. She's going to stay at a neighbor's house. I'll go get us some burgers to tide us over and then I'll explain my theory."  
  
"No, Mulder no." The last thing she wanted on a Saturday night was to spend the night at a stranger's house and listen to one of Mulder's radical theories. "I don't want to hear your theories about bilocating ghosts or what ever. This most likely has a simple, very reasonable explanation." But he ignored her protests and was gone before she could persuade him.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Scully stared at the darkened ceiling and fought to stay awake. She lay on her back on Mrs. Fuddie's bed, with a quilt pulled up to her chin. The breeze coming in the window was cool, but she'd left it open just as Mrs. Fuddie had said she did. Mulder sat in a chair in the corner, a dark and silent shadow. Scully stifled a yawn and glanced at the nightstand. The old leather bible they'd placed there was a square black shadow against the street light outside. She stifled another yawn and looked at her watch. One AM.  
  
*So help me Mulder, I'm going to get you for this one.*  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Scully woke to the sound of Mulder whispering her name urgently. She blinked, expecting to see the darkness of the ceiling once more. Instead the pink blush of dawn crept through the room. Turning, she flinched as she starred into the bright yellow eyes of a bird. A large black bird tugged erratically on the red ribbon inside the bible. As Scully watched in amazement, it pulled the ribbon free and slipping under the window and flew away.  
  
Scully was out of the bed in a second, Mulder right beside her. Together, they tiptoed up the attic steps, just in time to see the bird squeeze in through a crack beside the chimney and deposit the ribbon amongst his other treasures.  
  
Mulder looked down at his partner with chagrin. "I suppose you're going to say I told you so, Scully. Go ahead, say it."  
  
"Oh, I don't know that I'll say that," she said looking smug. "But I might 'crow' about being right for a while."  
  
Mulder groaned and together they walked down the stairs and out of the attic.  
  
The End.  
  
:) 


End file.
